


Benched

by Forlorn Kumquat (sara_wolfe)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/Forlorn%20Kumquat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's been benched by medical. He's even got a babysitter. Like that's going to keep him from saving the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scifigrl47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/gifts).



> For **scifigrl47** , who was wondering where Clint was during Captain America: The Winter Soldier, since he's a SHIELD agent and more than qualified to be with the rest of the team. 
> 
> I would also like to say that I haven't actually seen the movie, yet, and I'm basing this off one comment on Tumblr, and this could go so very, very badly. You have been warned.

"Stark, I need a favor." 

"Hello to you, too." Tony kicked his feet up onto his desk, leaning back in his chair. "And how are you this fine day, Ms. Romanov?" 

"Stark-" He could hear the frustration in her voice, could almost see the headache she was trying unsuccessfully to rub out of her temples. "I don't have time for your games, Stark." 

"All right, all right." Tony moved the phone away from his ear, hitting the speakerphone as he set in on the desk. "What can I do for you?" 

"I'm not even going to pretend that you don't know what's going on in SHIELD right now-" 

"That'll save us both some time," Tony replied. "So, what? You want Iron Man to come with you?"

"On a SHIELD mission? God, no." Natasha snorted out a laugh. "The damage would be incalculable. No, this is something else. I need you to sit on Barton for a while."

"Literally?" Tony asked.

"If you have to," Natasha told him. 

"If this is a SHIELD mission, then why isn't Barton going with you?"

"Barton's been temporarily benched by medical," Natasha replied. "I need you to ensure he _stays_ benched."

"Sure, why not?" Tony shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "I could use some downtime after Christmas. Let you people save the world for a change."

"How magnanimous of you," Natasha remarked. "Thanks, Stark. I'll owe you one."

"Don't think I won't collect," Tony told her. After she'd hung up, Tony dialed another number, listening to the phone rang. When it was answered, he grinned in anticipation. "Hey, Bruce? You and the Big Guy wanna help me babysit a cranky superspy?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is…yeah, I don’t even know what this is. I warned you this was gonna go badly.

"Pirates, Stark. I could be hunting pirates, right now."

"Mm-hmm." Tony didn’t even look up from the gauntlet he was tinkering with.

Clint was pretty sure Tony was patronizing him, but he needed to make him understand. Understand what Clint was giving up by keeping Tony company in his workshop. Or being held captive by him. Things were kind of all blurring together, and Clint had a hard time remembering why he was currently perched on the back of the battered old couch in Tony’s workshop. It might have had something to do with the bandages wrapped around his torso. And the cast on his wrist. And the fact that Bruce kept checking him for concussions every half hour. And now he was losing his point.

"Actual pirates," he stressed, emphatically, before he could forget what he’d been talking about.

"And not the Johnny Depp kind, either." Now Bruce was in on the whole ‘mocking Clint’ thing. Clint always knew that Tony was a bad influence on the other man.

"Johnny Depp is not a real pirate," Clint grumbled, under his breath.

"So you’ve told us," Tony said, sounding distracted. "Every fifteen minutes for the last three hours. Barton, exactly what are you on?"

Clint shrugged. He remembered (vaguely) being at SHIELD medical, remembered the nurse giving him something for the pain, but he didn’t remember what she’d given him. Something like that was probably important, but he just felt floaty, and woozy, and, and-

"The good stuff," he finally replied, when he realized that he hadn’t answered Tony’s question, yet. He was about to say something else, but then his attention was caught by something on Tony’s desk. "Ooh, arrowheads!"

He was off the back of the couch in a heartbeat, ignoring the stab of pain in his chest as he focused on his prize. But, before he could sneak one of the arrows off Tony’s desk, his hand was sharply smacked away.

"No, Barton." Tony still hadn’t looked up from his work, just reached out and pulled the box of arrowheads closer to him.

"But, they’re mine!" Clint was not whining. He was a badass, secret agent superspy. Badass, secret agent superspies did not whine. He was very emphatically stating his point.

"They’re also explosive, and you’re under the influence of major pain meds," Tony told him. "Hands off."

Clint scowled. Clearly, his mistake had been in announcing his desire to get the arrowheads. He’d have to be silent the next time he made a grab at them

"Like you’ve never done something stupid with the Iron Man armor while under the influence," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but everyone knows that I make bad choices," Tony said, "and you have much more common sense than me, don’t you?"

There was a trap in those words, Clint was sure of it. He just couldn’t hold onto Tony’s words long enough to make sense of them.

"Clint, what day is it?" Bruce’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he blinked at the other man for a moment. "Day, Clint," Bruce prompted, when he was silent. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday," Clint answered, trying to sound confident even though he was anything but. With the really awesome pain meds currently flowing in his system, there were some moments where he wasn’t entirely certain he still had _feet_. (He checked quickly just to be sure, and yup, still there.)

"Close enough," Bruce told him. "You know, what I can’t understand is why SHIELD’s medical team would let you out in the first place."

"I probably sneaked out," Clint said, even though he couldn’t really remember. Seeing the surprised looks the other men were giving him, he shrugged. "I do it all the time. It’s a bad habit."

"So, you sneaked out of medical, only for Romanov to pick you up and dump you on us," Tony said.

"Dumped him on you," Bruce corrected Tony. "You dragged me into this."

"Because I wasn’t going to deal with Barton’s drugged-up ass on my own, all night," Tony retorted, and Clint figured that he should really be insulted that they were talking about him, but - ooh, arrowheads!

He moved his hand slowly toward the box. He was a SHIELD agent, a superspy. He could grab the box without anyone noticing - except that he wasn’t actually getting any closer to the box, and he blinked in surprise when he realized that Bruce was gently but insistently holding his hands in place on the desk.

"No, Clint," he said, and Clint fought to keep a pout off his face. Spies didn’t pout, damn it.

"They’re mine," he muttered.

"And when you’re not drugged to the gills, then you can have them," Tony told him. "Geez, he’s worse than a two-year-old."

"Why don’t you just put them away?" Bruce asked.

"Because I’m still working on them," Tony replied. "Don’t give me that look, Bruce. I can work on more than one project at a time. It’s called multitasking."

"You’re going to blow yourself up," Bruce sighed, and then, "No, Dummy, put the fire extinguisher down. I wasn’t serious."

"City college, Dummy," Tony called out, a threatening tone in his voice, and Clint watched the dejected bot put his fire extinguisher back on the wall.

"You hurt his feelings," he told Tony. "You should apologize."  
Bruce choked back a laugh. “Yeah, Tony. You should apologize to Dummy.”

"I will kill you both," Tony muttered, darkly, and then he subsided with a sigh. "C’mere, Dummy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’d donate you to MIT, at the very least. They know how to appreciate true genius."

"Was that so hard?" Clint asked, while the bot chirped happily. "Look how happy he - ooh, arrowheads!"


End file.
